


Lost and Found

by rubygirl29



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris loves whiskey, Vin loves Chris. Misunderstandings lead Chris and Vin to revealing their growing emotions to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Moving another of my M7 stories on a request. One of these days, they'll all be here! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t think the Alphabet folk know or care what Chris and Vin are up to. But they still own them, and I’m not getting rich.

Chris Larabee loved the taste of whiskey. Loved the smoky bitterness of it, the bite of it on his tongue, the slow, warm slide of it down his throat and the weight of it in his stomach. But most of all he loved the way it made him forget. Drink enough of it and you’d forget pain, forget love, forget hate, forget guilt, forget yourself and become one with the dark that lived inside your heart. 

He was about half-way there. And the bottle in front of him was about half-full. Seemed about right. By the time the bottle was empty, the liquor would have wiped the slate of his memories clean. Sometimes a man needed to forget. Needed that oblivion that nothing else could bring.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drowned his sorrows – been a while since Buck hadn’t been there to stop him. But Wilmington was away and nobody else needed to know that Chris Larabee was dying inside. The darkness had begun a few days ago, insidious as a shadow of a cloud across the moon. There was no rhyme or reason to it – no anniversary or birthday to send him on this downward spiral. He didn’t need or want to analyze it. Loneliness needed no reason. It just ... was. And it was, in Chris, a living thing gnawing at his heart. 

His hand shook slightly as he poured another dose of ruin into his glass. He staggered to his feet and stood by the window. He opened the enclosed blinds and watched the slow scrawl of rain blur the lights of the city into iridescent tears. He stretched out his arms, splayed his palms against the cold glass and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. 

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Something was wrong. Vin felt it like an itch in his bones. He’d driven Buck to the airport – the man finally taking advantage of too many accumulated vacation days – stopped off at the loft to tell JD he’d shipped his roommate off successfully, then drove back to his apartment in Purgatorio, fully intending to spend the night on the couch with a beer and a movie. In the six weeks since he’d joined the ATF Special Operations Group Team Seven, he’d spent more time in the company of his six teammates than he had alone, and that was such a rare occurrence that he still wondered why he wasn’t looking forward to the solitary time.

Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be alone ... or more pointedly, didn’t want to be away from Chris Larabee. His needing and wanting had become so much a part of him that he couldn’t remember when it hadn’t been there. He *knew* it hadn’t been there before he walked into Larabee’s office for the first time; or maybe it had been, just an unspoken, aching emptiness that had been there all of his life. But the knowledge of what could fill it had come with the first look he’d taken into Chris’s green eyes and had seen an answering recognition of a soul mate in them. 

Recognizing a soul mate was one thing, accepting a lover was entirely different, and Vin wasn’t sure enough of Larabee’s desires to push the issue. Sometimes ... sometimes ... he could swear that the man had to know his thoughts. His eyes would soften, that beautiful, distracting mouth would curve into a smile, and he’d clasp Vin’s forearm in that gesture that was theirs alone; speaking words that needed no voice. And Vin would just about die for wanting so much more ... 

With an exasperated sigh, Vin peeled himself from his couch, pulled off his ATF sweatshirt and put on a black t-shirt and a faded denim jacket. He didn’t often feel this restless urge to get out, but the thought of spending the night holed up in his apartment alone with his yearnings was just too damn depressing. 

He jogged down the creaky stairs, out to his Jeep, jumped in and drove down to E. Colfax, to a gay bar. Not the wildest one in town, and a place where he knew the bartender and trusted him to keep the hits on his regular customers to a minimum. He was lucky enough to find a parking place nearby and braced himself for the inevitable push through the crowd at the front of the bar – crowded because it was the best place to catch a view of the newcomers and make your selection for the night. Vin wasn’t in any mood to be anybody’s *selection.* He just wanted to lose himself in the noise and atmosphere, the feverish activity of the hunt, even when he had no intention of being hunter or prey. 

He settled on a barstool and ordered a beer. He was seated between two couples – one comfortable and older, the other alight with that spark of excitement that came from the promise of sex and fresh meat. He watched the reflections in the mirror; saw the older couple touching elbows, knees, exchanging looks. Saw the couple on the other side starting to grope; hands sliding beneath clothing, faces flushed with heat. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself and Chris, hands busy on each other; Chris’s eyes dark with arousal, watching him. Vin’s cock swelled and he shifted on the barstool. He was disgusted at his weakness, that his imagination was vivid enough to give him a hard-on.

What the hell was he doing here? What the hell was he doing, period?

As if to answer his questions, his cell phone rang. He frowned at the number. JD? He slid off the stool and went into a quieter corner. “Yeah?”

“Vin –”

“Somethin’ wrong? Buck make it to Dallas okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” JD said breathlessly. “It’s not Buck. It’s Chris.”

“Chris?” Vin’s stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothin’. He called lookin’ for Buck.”

“Buck? Hell, how’d he fergit that Buck’s out of town?”

JD sighed. “Shit, Vin. He – I think he was drunk. He sounded ... weird.”

“Shit,” Vin echoed. “Where’s he callin’ from?”

“The office. At least that’s what the display said.”

“Then let’s hope he’s still there. I’m on it, JD. You sit tight and I’ll git back to ya soon as I find out what’s goin’ on with Chris.”

“Thanks, Vin. I-I’d’ve gone, but he’s my boss ...” His voice trailed off as if he recognized that handling Chris was way beyond his capabilities. 

“It’s okay, JD. I’ll see what’s up.” Vin shut his phone, went back to the bar and paid his tab. The older couple was gone, the younger couple was on their way out the door, twined around each other like ivy. 

Vin climbed into the Jeep and wheeled his way through the streets to the Federal Building. He was more than relieved to see Chris’s Ram parked in its usual spot. He didn’t know if Chris was the kind of drunk who recognized that staying in one place was the best thing for all concerned. He’d dreaded the thought of Larabee getting behind the wheel and taking on traffic. Seemed he had that much sense left in him. That was one less worry.

But there was still a host of them keeping him company during the elevator ride to the twelfth floor.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris stared at the half-full whiskey bottle. He had a glass sitting on the table in front of him, untouched. He thrust his fingers through his hair, ground the heels of his hands into his eyes as if to press out the pain. He needed ... God, he needed ... A drink? He’d tried that. A friend? Buck? Buck would just read him the riot act over his drinking, and damn it, he’d be right! He wasn’t close enough to the others to reach out to them, and he didn’t want them to see him like this. But he needed ... Lord, he needed _not_ to be alone. 

He needed ... _Vin._

So simple, yet his need was anything but simple. Never had been simple. He’d known from the first time he’d met those deep blue eyes that he’d found more than a man he could trust with his life, he’d found a man he could trust with his heart and soul. A man he could trust ... _A man he could trust with his love._

Chris caught his breath, looked up like a veil had been ripped from his eyes. Unwittingly he had admitted what his heart had been telling him all along. He loved Vin Tanner. 

He reached for the whiskey, then jerked his hand away. What had he just thought? Love? Sure, he loved Vin. Had from the beginning, seeing something in the quiet sharpshooter that was his perfect complement: balance to his unbalanced world, a calm center to his own seething emotions. He had thought that peace had been destroyed by the deaths of his family. Yet every laugh, every shared glance, every quiet conversation with Vin had rebuilt it piece by piece until once more, he had a refuge. 

He would have loved Vin for no other reason than that. But there were depths and layers to his emotions that he was afraid to examine, because what they would reveal was impossible, unthinkable. Restless, he rose and went into the small lavatory. He turned on the faucet and splashed water over his face, as if the cool droplets could draw the flush from his cheeks. But when he raised his head and met his own eyes in the mirror, he saw the truth, clear and undeniable. 

He didn’t just love Vin. He was in love with him – a distinction he was only too familiar with. He couldn’t say when it had happened. Not the first time they had met, despite the searing recognition of their meeting. Not the first time they had fought side-by-side or when he had watched Vin working the horses at the ranch and realized that the man’s presence in his life was somehow filling the void left by loss and loneliness. 

The shift might have happened the first time Chris kept vigil over his wounded sharpshooter. He recalled the wave of emotion that had nearly overwhelmed him at the sight of Vin, pale and unconscious in a hospital ER. Panic and fear and tenderness all tangled together, and so painful that Chris had sat at Vin’s bedside, holding his hand and repeating over and over to God, “Not again. I can’t go through this again.” He hadn’t realized yet what he was saying. Now he did. 

He couldn’t go through it again because a life without Vin had become unthinkable. A life without the smart-ass humor, the exasperating stubbornness, the courage to do a job that you couldn’t pay most men enough to do. A life without those eyes that were the color of a field of Texas bluebonnets and as fathomless as the sea ... a life without hearing Vin’s honey and smoke voice ... to lose any or all would be unthinkable, unbearable. 

All right. He’d said it. He loved Vin. He was in love with Vin. But admitting it to himself wasn’t going to get him anything but heartache. And a headache. He blinked at his reflection which was beginning to waver and dim with a migraine aura. The shimmer of rain on the window had been more than an illusion. Shit. Just what he needed. He dried off his face, opened the medicine cabinet and took two migraine pills. 

He didn’t have much time before he’d be incapacitated. Between the alcohol he’d consumed and the oncoming migraine, he knew he’d never make it home. Spending the next few hours in the grip of pain on the back-breaking office sofa made him reach for the phone and call Buck. 

The migraine was rushing in on him like a freight train, exacerbated by alcohol and depression, and undeterred by the medication. By the time JD answered the phone, Chris was nearly incoherent. He heard Dunne’s stammering reply to his query, remembering too late that Buck was on his way to Dallas. “Sorry, kid ...” he slurred. “I just needed ... never mind, JD.” And then hung up. 

He felt sick. He staggered over to the lavatory and hung on to the towel bar next to the toilet, retching up alcohol and probably the meds he’d taken. Then he sank to the floor, waiting for the next wave of nausea and enduring the grinding pain in his skull. 

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Vin was out of the elevator before the doors were fully opened. He hurried down the hall to the offices, pulled out his keycard to open the office door and went inside. The main room was dark, the small pinpoints of light from the compter equipment blinked balefully at him. The door to Chris’s office was closed, but a dim light shone beyond the glass panel. 

Vin hesitated, wondering if he should knock or just walk in. He decided knocking was the wisest choice, given Larabee’s hair-trigger temper and gun hand. No response. He tried once more, then gave up caution and went inside. 

“Chris?” No answer. The desk lamp was turned to low, the light glancing off the half-empty bottle of whiskey and nearly full glass. Vin sighed. He turned to the sofa, expecting to see Chris stretched out there and, when he wasn’t, felt the first frisson of true alarm shiver through him. “Chris!” he called out a bit louder. 

A low moan came from the lavatory. One long leg showed at the doorway. *Shit.* Vin thought. How much liquor had Larabee drunk? When he paced closer, he caught a whiff of the sour odor of vomit. He sighed. Wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He just wished it wasn’t Chris passed out on the bathroom floor. He stood in the doorway, then quickly knelt down beside Larabee and laid a hand along his cheek. It was clammy, pale and he was shivering. This wasn’t just too much whiskey. Vin looked up at the sink. A prescription bottle was out and Vin grabbed it, praying that it wasn’t some sort of barbituate – the sort of thing a man combined with whiskey when he wanted to end it all. He managed to decipher a long pharmaceutical name he couldn’t begin to pronounce or identify. The bottle was still more than half-full, but he had no way of knowing how many pills were missing.

“Chris?” He turned Larabee over and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Chris, c’n you wake up? Ya gotta tell me what ya took, an’ if ya need me t’call anybody. C’mon.” He really, really didn’t want to call Nate, or worse, 911. 

He tapped at Larabee’s cheek and was rewarded with another moan and a glimmer of green eyes. “Chris?”

His lids fluttered and closed. Vin tapped his cheek harder. “Larabee! C’mon, wake up! Ya gotta tell me what ya took!”

Chris groaned turned his face away from Vin. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?” Vin persisted. “I cain’t help ya if ya don’t talk ta me!” He felt a long shudder wrack Chris’s body and held him tighter until the shivering stopped again. He had to call Nate. He was about to reach for his phone when Chris opened his eyes. This time there was a faint awareness in the pain-shadowed depths.

“V-Vin?”

“Hey, partner.” He spoke softly, held out the bottle. “You mind tellin’ me what this is?”

Chris squinted at the bottle. “Meds.”

Vin sighed. “Yeah, I sorta figured that part out. But ya took’em with whiskey. I gotta know if I need to call somebody.”

“Call somebody?” Chris asked faintly. 

“Poison control. Nate. 911”

Chris struggled to sit up, his efforts defeated by another chill and a wave of nausea that made him fall back into Vin’s arms. “Don’t call,” he whispered. “M’fine.”

Vin rolled his eyes. “Let’s get ya off this floor. Yer shakin’ like a leaf.” Now that Chris was slightly more coherent, some of his alarm was fading, though he still wanted to give Nate a call for his own peace of mind. First, he wanted to find out what was going on in Larabee’s head, because he sure didn’t know what had driven him to abuse drink and prescription meds. Just didn’t seem like the man he knew. He took a breath and slid his arm around Chris’s waist. He knelt, then stood, waiting for Chris to get his feet beneath him, then with Larabee leaning heavily on him, they made their way to the office. Vin started to lower him to the couch, but Chris’s weight twisted awkwardly, and he ended up sitting with Chris stretched out full length, his head cushioned on Vin’s lap. He could think of worst ways to spend some time, if he had time to spend.

The move from the bathroom to the couch had sent Chris back into semi-consciouness. Vin let him rest there; under other circumstances it would have been a dream come true, to have Chris cradled in his arms. He looked down at the drawn, handsome face of the man he loved. Chris’s blond hair was damp and lank with sweat, his eyes deeply circled with bruises of pain. “Jesus, Chris, what were ya doin’ to yerself?” Vin sighed and stroked his forehead. “What were ya thinkin’?” 

Not that he expected an answer. Chris moved and settled closer. The shivering eased up, and his breathing became regular and even, like he was slipping into a normal sleep. Vin cautiously dug his phone out of his pocket and made his call to Nathan.

From the tone of the medic’s voice, Vin guessed he’d interrupted something and cursed his clumsiness. “Hey, Nathan. I’m sorry t’call ya at home.”

“You bleedin’?” 

“No.”

“Got a fever?”

“No.”

“Then call me back in the morning.”

“I’m fine. Chris ain’t.” He heard Jackson’s sharp inhalation and continued, “Nate, what do ya take su-sumatriptan succinate for?”

“It’s for migraine headaches. Chris has a script for it.”

“’S’it toxic taken with whiskey?”

“Probably ain’t a good idea, but it ain’t gonna kill him unless he overdosed. What’s goin’ on, Vin?” He couldn’t disguise the genuine concern and alarm in his voice.

Vin sighed. “Seems like Chris was drinkin’ a bit and got a migraine. Took some meds. I found him passed out at the office.”

“How much did he take?”

“The bottle was more ‘n half full. I don’t know how many was in there to begin with, but I don’t think he OD’d.”

“Is he unconscious?”

“No. I think he’s just sleepin’ it off, now. He recognized me. Talked enough to make sense and then drifted off.”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s probably the meds and the migraine. Let him rest a bit. If his headache is better when he wakes up, get some food into him. And don’t let him drink anymore. That’s prob’ly what triggered the migraine to begin with.”

Vin sagged against the back of the couch, all the tension he’d been hanging on to drained away by Nathan’s reassurance. “Thanks. I’ll take care of him, Nathan.”

“Good. Seems like it’s been a while since he let anybody do that.” 

Vin snorted. “Hell, I ain’t so sure he’s gonna appreciate it.”

Nathan’s soft laughter came over the phone, then faded as he spoke again. “Listen, Vin. If he doesn’t seem right to you, get him to the ER, okay?” 

“I will,” he promised and disconnected. Chris was still sleeping, so he made the promised call to JD. 

The young agent answered on the first ring, breathlessly. “Vin?”

“Take it easy, JD. I’m with Chris. He’s okay.”

“Should I call Buck?”

“Don’t think you’ll hafta. I’m gonna take him to my place for the night. Keep an eye on him.”

“Sure. Vin, is he really okay?”

“He will be. Relax, kid. Get some rest and I’ll call ya in the mornin’.” He hung up before JD could work up the courage to start asking more questions than Vin wanted to answer. 

Chris continued to doze for another half-hour, his weight and warmth cherished by Vin. He might never have this chance again. To hold Chris. To study him without guilt or self-consciouness. To wonder what it would be like to have this in his life forever. *Get a grip, Tanner,* he told himself. *It ain’t gonna happen.* But a man could dream, couldn’t he?

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris was drawn awake by several sensations; some pleasant, some not. He was thirsty. His head hurt and he was queasy. The taste of old whiskey and the metallic tang left by his migraine medication was in his mouth. Those were offset by the unfamiliar closeness of another human body; the warmth of hard muscle and the even rise and fall of breath, the security of being held ... God, who and where? He struggled to wake and opened his eyes. 

It took a moment for his vision to focus, but when it did, Chris realized he was looking up into Vin’s quizzical blue eyes. A slow smile curved Tanner’s mouth. “Hey.”

Chris started to raise up, but Vin’s hand on his chest pressed him back. “Easy, Chris. Don’t want ya t’git sick again.”

“Sick?” Chris groaned. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Vin.”

“I’ve seen worse. Hell, I’ve *done* worse.” 

Chris licked his dry lips. “I need some water.”

“Okay. Just sit up real slow and I’ll get it fer ya.” His hands slid away, reluctantly, it seemed to Chris. He sat up and immediately closed his eyes as the room went into a lazy spin. He felt the cushions move as Vin rose, heard the water running in the lavatory, then a cool, wet glass being pressed into his open fingers.

“Here’s the water.”

“Thanks.” He drank it slowly, savoring each swallow as it eased the dryness of his mouth and throat. 

“Chris, what were ya tryin’ t’do?” Vin asked quietly. “Drinkin’ and takin’ those pills ...”

“What?” Chris frowned, his eyes still closed. 

“Ya scared JD half ta death, had me damn near frantic. It ain’t like you.”

Then he did open his eyes as he realized what Vin was saying. The idea was so ridiculous that he nearly laughed ... would have laughed if he weren’t afraid it would jolt his headache back to full strength. He turned his head. “Wait. You thought ... you thought I was trying to kill myself?”

“What the hell was I supposed ta think? I come here and find a half-full bottle a’ booze and a half-empty bottle of pills, and you passed out on the floor.” Vin stared at the floor between his booted feet. “Y’ain’t been anybody’s ray of sunshine the last week or so.”

“You should know me better than that.”

Vin looked at him hard. “That’s jist it, Chris. I know you, but I don’t always understand you. Sometimes I think you and me c’n read each other’s minds, but there’s things you don’t want me ta see, and things I don’t want you ta see.” Chris started to object, but Vin just shrugged. “It ain’t wrong, Chris. It’s jist the way it is. The way _we_ are.”

Chris rubbed his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Vin. I wouldn’t do that. I do a lotta stupid things, but not that. If I was going to do it, I’d use my gun,” he said quietly. “Go off someplace far away and just put a bullet in my brain.” 

Vin looked a little sick at that. “Sounds like ya gave it some thought.”

“I did. Ask Buck. He’ll tell you close I came to it. But I didn’t and I won’t.” He watched Vin think that through and give him a nod. Chris pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Go home. I’m okay.”

Vin laughed at that. “You’re so far from okay ya cain’t even feel it,” he said. “C’mon. I promised Nate I’d take ya to my place and feed ya.”

Chris looked pained. “You called Nathan?”

“It was either that or take ya to the ER t’git yer stomach pumped.”

“I reckon you did me a favor, then.” He stood up cautiously. The floor didn’t shift beneath his feet. “I ain’t gonna argue with you.”

“Damn right, Larabee.” Vin held out his coat. “Mrs. Lopez brought over some chicken soup last night. Should sit real easy on yer stomach.”

“Good. I need easy.” Chris shrugged into his coat. He paused by his desk, picked up the whiskey bottle and went into the lavatory where he emptied it down the sink. 

“Removing temptation?” Vin asked.

“Nah. Cheap whiskey gives me migraines.” He grinned faintly. “Let’s ride.”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Vin wondered exactly how this had all happened. Here he was driving Chris’s Ram to his place, because Larabee refused to risk his stomach or his head to the Jeep’s less than smooth ride. He was tucked into the corner of the cab where Vin usually sat, his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed with the remnants of the migraine. He was silent, apparently trusting Vin’s driving skills enough to relax. 

Vin stopped at an intersection and looked over at Chris. His fine features were cast into planes of shadows and light, beautiful as a fallen angel to Vin’s eyes. He wanted to touch, to stroke down the contours of those striking bones, ached to feel his skin and the golden stubble of his beard. He remembered how Chris’s weight had felt across his lap and longed to bear it again. 

The driver behind him honked, startling Vin from his reverie. Pleasant as it was, it would never happen again, so he’d better learn to live with what was real, not with his dreams. He made the left turn onto the street leading towards his apartment. Things didn’t get much more real than living in Purgatorio and he’d better keep his mind focused on that, not on the man dozing next to him. 

When they were within sight of his building, Vin reached over and gently shook Chris’s arm. “Hey, Chris. We’re here.”

Chris yawned, shifted his shoulders and cautiously rotated his neck. He blinked at Vin, smiled sleepily. Vin thought he’d melt at that look. He knew he was blushing and hoped it was dark enough to hide the color on his cheeks. 

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

“Little bit. That soup sounds like a good idea.”

Vin nodded, relieved that Larabee was looking more like himself now that the effects of pain, liquor and drugs were wearing off. It was a bad combination and Vin still didn’t know what had sent him down that potentially lethal path. This wasn’t the time or place to start asking questions, though.

Vin endured the confined, crotchety elevator for Chris’s sake, though every creak and sway of it made his heart leap up to his throat. He opened the series of locks he had installed, aware of Chris leaning against the wall and looking amused at the whole process. He turned the key a final time and opened the door. 

“Make yerself at home, Chris. I’ll get that soup goin’.” He vanished into the kitchen, and once out of sight, took in a deep, steadying breath. Chris had been to his place before, to pick him up for ops, or just to go to work when Vin’s Jeep was in the shop, which seemed to be every other week since he’d started working for Team Seven. This felt different though, his nerves quivering and his heart beating fast and light. He recognized the feeling; it was the same as before a big op, when anticipation and nerves all combined to sharpen his senses. 

Some op, he thought, laughing to himself. Trying to keep himself from jumping his boss’s bones. 

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris sank down on the sofa. It was the one piece of furniture Vin had broken the budget for, apparently. Generously sized, wide and comfortable enough to sleep on. There was a soft, faded quilt flung over the back, and Chris wondered how often Vin camped out there. The sudden vision of Tanner stretched out and at ease sent a completely unexpected rush of blood to his groin, startling him. He dug his fingers into the soft cushions, waiting for the sensation to ebb. It wasn’t right, he argued to himself. But at the same time, nothing else seemed right in his life, but that Vin should be in it. As a friend? As a lover? Chris didn’t know the answer to those questions. There was only one way to find out.

He went into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar. Vin was standing at the stove, his back to Chris. Not a bad view, he decided. Tanner was a good-looking man, and for the first time Chris allowed himself the luxury of really studying him. The black t-shirt Vin wore was tight enough to cling to his shoulders and his jeans were faded in all the right places, fitting close to his body. His hips were narrow, his legs long and slim. His movements were fluid and easy on the eye. Chris was captivated.

Vin interrupted his train of thought by turning around. “Ya hungry?” he asked.

He was starving. Might not be for the soup, though. “Hungry enough.”

Vin gave him a narrow look. “You feelin’ all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Ya look –” Vin broke off. He shook his head and ladled out two bowls of soup, then joined Chris at the bar. “Nathan said ya need ta eat somethin’ light.”

Chris eyes the spoonful of broth, meat, vegetables and plump noodles. “Is this light?” he asked.

“It could’a been tamales,” Vin grinned at him over his own spoon, his eyes bright blue and teasing. Chris smiled back, and in that moment, something shifted. He felt it, and Vin *had* to feel it as well, for his eyes, always steady in their regard, skated away from Chris’s and a flush rose to his cheeks. Neither of them said anything, though. They just continued eating as if nothing had changed. 

When they had finished, Vin carried the bowls over to the sink. He turned on the tap. Chris slid off the barstool. He stood an arm’s length from Vin, and the only sound was the soft rush of water. Vin stood with his arms braced on the counter top, his head slightly bowed.

“What’s goin’ on here, Chris?” he asked quietly.

Chris thought a moment, listening to the water, looking at Vin’s taut back. “How far and how fast would you run if I told you I’m in love with you?”

The water continued flowing. Vin turned and took two steps, closing the distance between them to inches, then was stock still. “About this far. About this fast,” he spoke in a raspy whisper that was as intimate and hot as a caress. 

Chris’s knees nearly buckled. He took one step, felt the warmth of Vin’s body and the light brush of his breath. Then before he could think about it, or before Vin could back away, he kissed him. 

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Their bodies fit, their mouths might have been molded for each other. Chris teased Vin’s lips with his tongue, seeking a more intimate exploration, and Vin yielded, then worked his tongue into Chris’s mouth, tasting and twining with his in a sensuous dance. Their bodies melded tightly; the sweep of their thighs and the hard press of their cocks rubbing together, their hearts pounding with a matching rhythm. 

Breathing fast, blood rushing through him in a flood of arousal and need, Chris still withdrew from the kiss with surprising gentleness. He combed his fingers through Vin’s hair and looked into Tanner’s dazed eyes. He was breathing as hard as Chris, trembling under his touch. Chris smiled at him, kissed him once more, with a light brush of his lips that sent a curl of arousal through his blood.

“Jesus, Vin,” he breathed. “How much time have I wasted?”

Vin laughed softly, shook his head. “’Bout six weeks.”

“Then I reckon we’ve got some catchin’ up to do.” He moved to claim another kiss, but Vin placed his hands flat against his chest, holding him back. “What?” he asked, confused, because he was a man who once settled on something went after it without a backward glance.

“I ain’t a one-time fuck, Chris.”

“I’m not --!” 

“Ya ever been with a man?” Vin asked, and when Chris didn’t answer, he stepped far enough away so Chris couldn’t touch him. “Then we got some talkin’ ta do.” He flipped on the coffee pot and didn’t look back at Chris. 

Chris left the kitchen and returned to the sofa, the dull throb of pain in his head recurring as the rush of adrenalin and arousal faded. “*I ain’t a one-time fuck.*” Was that what Vin thought he wanted? A quick hump to relieve his need and curiosity? Didn’t Vin know him better than that? And then the words came back to him. “*Sometimes I think you and me c’n read each other’s minds, but there’s things you don’t want me ta see, and things I don’t want you ta see.”*

Maybe one of those things Vin didn’t want him to see was the pain inherent in those words. Too late. He might not be Josiah with his years of psychological training, but he’d watched Vin enough to recognize the damage done by a hurtful past. The last thing he wanted was to be another scar on the record of Vin’s life. 

The aroma of brewing coffee drifted in from the kitchen. Vin returned eventually, two mugs of coffee in his hands, though Chris didn’t doubt it was a delaying tactic. Still, he took the steaming mug gratefully, knowing the caffeine would help banish the last cobwebs of migraine and medication. He took a few sips, waiting to see if Vin would speak. 

Tanner had settled on the carved rocking chair facing the couch. It looked like it had been made for his frame, though the way he was settled tensely against the wooden arms and high back made it seem more fortress-like than comforting. At some point he had put on one of his flannel shirts, though the night was fairly warm. Chris couldn’t help thinking that it was another layer of defense, though he wasn’t sure against what – against him, against some desire or need in Vin himself – like some sort of protective camouflage.

Chris drew a breath. “You’re right. I’ve never been with another man. I never wanted to be with another man. But I’ve been in love, and when I say I love you, it’s not just because I want a *one-time fuck.”* He threw Vin’s words back at him bitterly. “That’s not love, and it sure as hell isn’t what I want with you.”

Vin sighed and stared down into his coffee. “I’m gay, Chris. I been this way all my life. It’s all I know.” He looked up at Chris, his eyes filled with pain. “It ain’t easy, n’ there’s times when it’s downright ugly.”

“Is that supposed to scare me off?” He lifted a blond brow. “It ain’t working, pard.”

“Well, ya oughtta be scared. A man with a future like yours –”

Chris’s frustration broke out. “I don’t give a fuck about my future! You know what a future is without love? Just a lot of empty days and endless nights. That’s what my life was like until you walked into my office.” He rose and thrust his fingers through his hair. “I love you! Don’t you know that?”

“Pretty hard to know somethin’ y’ain’t never had.” 

Vin’s soft reply made Chris stop in mid-stride. His eyes narrowed, taking in Vin’s defensive posture, so at odds with the desolate tone of his voice. He saw pride in him as well as pain, and both struck to his heart. He crossed over to the chair and crouched in front of Vin, his intense gaze nearly level with Tanner’s wide blue eyes. “Then maybe it’s time you learned what it is to be loved,” he said. “And maybe it’s time I learned how to love you.”

He linked his arms loosely around Tanner’s waist, pulling him forward. “Seems like there’s plenty for us to teach each other,” he whispered against Vin’s lips. Vin’s eyes widened, then he embraced Chris fiercely and claimed him with a searching, searing kiss.

Eventually, they found their way to the couch; kissing, touching, unwilling to lose physical contact now that they had found it. Everything was new to Chris: the angles of Vin’s body, the scent of his hair, the rough scrape of his stubbled jaw as Chris kissed his way from temple to throat. He licked Vin’s Adam’s apple and Tanner writhed beneath him, pushing his pelvis into Chris’s, their cocks rubbing through their clothes until they were both wrestling with buttons and zippers, trying to get to the hot, hard flesh beneath khaki and denim. 

Vin uttered a triumphant cry as he won the race for skin. He tugged Chris’s khakis and briefs down his legs, then paused for a breath at the sight of Larabee’s erect penis. He bent and licked the glistening fluid from the slit.

“God!” Chris bucked at that incredible, intimate caress. Vin was braced over his body, and Chris’s fingers finally released Vin’s shaft from his jeans. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric, kneading the firm globes of Vin’s ass. 

Vin moved up and kissed Chris, giving him his first taste of cum. Their cocks rubbed and their bodies pressed closer, capturing their sexes and smearing the mingled juices of arousal between them. Chris felt a burning, boiling heat rush from his thighs to his back, to his groin. Vin thrust hard, his penis raking against Chris’s over and over until Chris’s orgasm tore through him and he cried out and arched off the cushions in ecstacy. Vin’s climax followed a few seconds later. Their heated semen slicked their skin; the pungent, salty aroma of sex filled the air. 

Vin lay collapsed over Chris’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Things had gone farther and faster than he ever intended, but instead of the familiar panic and shame that usually followed such impetuosity, he felt calm, quiet, cherished.

He felt loved. 

He sighed and shifted his weight off Chris’s chest, and was gathered in close by Chris’s strong arm. He settled against his body as if they had been lovers for years. Chris drew in a breath. “If that was lesson number one, I can’t wait for number two,” he chuckled.

“Don’t seem like there’s much I c’n teach ya.” Vin snuggled closer to Chris’s body. “I’d say yer a natural.”

Chris stroked his thumb down Vin’s throat in a sweet, soothing caress. “It’s love, Vin. It just kinda leads you the right way.”

“There’s more ... more ways a’ lovin’,” Vin said, and was appalled to feel a blush rising in his face. 

“I figured as much,” Chris said. “But we’ll get there.” 

“Chris?” Vin’s voice was fading to a drowsy whisper. “Why were ya drinkin’?”

Chris’s arm tightened. He kissed Vin’s hair where it brushed against his chin. “Because I thought *this* would never happen. I thought we would never happen. I was looking into the future and it looked mighty bleak. It’s a bad place to be ... caught between a dark past and a lonesome future.” His shoulders shifted in a shrug. “Probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do, but sometimes you just want the pain to stop.”

Vin nodded, his throat too tight to speak. “Yeah. I’ve been there,” he finally whispered. “But I jist figgered that was the way my life was gonna be. Bein’ here, with the Team ... it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I wasn’t plannin’ on asking fer more.” He lifted himself up a bit so he could look at Chris. “And I thought this would only happen in my dreams.” He touched Chris’s lips in wonder. 

Chris shook his head. “I was afraid. Afraid of you, afraid of what loving you meant. Afraid of searching my own heart honestly. So I went looking for courage in the bottom of a bottle. All I found was a headache.”

“Ya found me,” Vin said. “I’m jist sorry it was pain that drove ya to it.”

“The pain’s gone.” Chris drew him close for a kiss. The pain *was* gone, the soul-deep ache of loneliness, the darkness that had haunted him for so long. Love was a balm filling his heart and a light illuminating his soul. 

Vin sighed and sank down, his eyes mirroring the same calm in their depths. Chris drew a deep, contented breath. “I think we found each other.”

“Don’t git lost again, Chris.”

“No.” He carded his fingers through Vin’s hair. “I’m stayin’ right here, for as long as you want me.”

Vin’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Then I reckon ya’d better be comfortable, ‘cause I think yer gonna be here fer a while.”

Chris liked the way that sounded. That simple “fer a while” would likely be for the rest of their lives. Falling in love was a leap of faith; being in love was a journey of a lifetime. A journey made of small, trusting steps. He had taken those first steps tonight and had found them exhilarating beyond imagination. He would trust Vin to lead him the rest of the way home. 

**The End**


End file.
